Broken Laughter, Shattered Smiles
by RavenclawRebel
Summary: As Gwen and the Joker's relationship deepens, Gwen has to balance her new job at the GPD, keeping her secret from the people she loves, and those annoying run-ins she keeps having with millionare Bruce Wayne. Pre-DK, Sequel to the Heart Behind the Madness
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: What's up, guys? I'm happy to say that I've found my way back to , here to pen the sequel to my previous Joker/OC story, The Heart Behind the Madness. This story picks up, at most, five minutes after THBTM left off, with Gwen and the Joker's escape from the scene of the warehouse explosion. It will chronicle their relationship as Gwen faces new obstacles in her life, and this isn't just for Joker/OC fans anymore! Broken Laughter, Shattered Smiles will feature almost every character from the Nolanverse. Gordon, Ramirez, Stephens, Harvey Dent, Rachel Dawes, Lucius Fox, Mayor Garcia, Commissioner Lobe, Alfred, and (of course) Bruce Wayne will all be making appearances. I hope that this will seriously expand on the number of people who might find my story worth reading. In addition, I hope that all of my loyal readers from THBTM have found their way over to the sequel. If you're new to my work, I do recommend that you go back and read my first story before diving in to this one. This story bridges the gap between my first story and the beginning of the Dark Knight, and it's a little hard to cross that bridge if you never saw how everything began! Here's hoping that I *did* manage to close any possible inconsistencies between my story and Nolan's. Any and all feedback/comments are appreciated. I want to hear whatever you had to say. Oh, and one more thing, the disclaimer: Other than Gwen and her three zany friends, NONE OF THIS STUFF IS MINE. On that note, please enjoy!! ~G**

Chapter One: You've Been A Very Good Clown

The ride back to Gwen's apartment didn't take long at all with the Joker behind the wheel. As the lights of the city whizzed by, Gwen gripped the sides of the passenger seat in terror, wondering whether it had been wise to allow him to drive. She knew they must have been speeding, but couldn't manage to get a good look at the speedometer as they careened around corners, driving over pothole after pothole. It was a wonder that no policeman attempted to pull them over, but the night was young and the traffic, slowed. The GPD didn't feel the need to have a high concentration of officers in any one area of the city at this time of night.

At last, the Joker eased Gwen's Toyota into her space on the third floor of the parking garage. She got out of the car slowly, her hands clinging to the roof of the car for support. Not only had she just sustained some sort of head injury from the recoil of the warehouse explosion, but she now felt plagued by nausea. The Joker regarded her without expression as she stumbled from the passenger door to the trunk of the car. She turned to look at him.

"I don't think I can make it to my room," she told him. "I feel like I'm going to pass out."

The Joker flicked out a flashlight from a pocket in his coat, clicked it on, and shined it in her eyes. He seemed to study them for a moment before swiftly removing the flashlight from Gwen's sight again.

"No concussion," he muttered, more to himself to anyone else. Then, he took Gwen's wrist in his hand and began to lead her towards the bank of elevators. Her fingers dug into the back of his suit jacket, both for support and reassurance. As soon as she was in reach of the wall, he let go of her and pressed the "up" key on the control panel. She leaned against the brick, breathing heavily.

"What now?" she asked after she'd caught her wind.

The Joker tapped his foot on the pavement, pondering. "You don't have any serious trauma, Gwennie, and it'd be a bad move to walk you up to your room in this getup." He gestured to his makeup and tailored suit. "You have a bad case of nerves, but that's it. I'll find somewhere to stay the night, so don't worry about that. But if anything bad happens, you call this number." At this, he handed her a crumpled sheet of paper. "Oh, and we never did get to have that dinner we were scheduled for this evening. Tomorrow night."

It was more a statement than a question. The Joker then placed a hand on her cheek and said in a low voice, "You've been a very good clown, beautiful." Before she could reply, he was gone. Next to her, the elevator doors groaned open. Though she still felt sick to her stomach, the dizziness was abating. With a sigh of disbelief at what had happened to her in the past hour, she stepped into the elevator and pressed "Lobby."

--

The next morning, Gwen didn't remember the elevator ride or how she made it to her room. All she knew was that she woke up on her couch wearing the dress she'd worn the night before, her hair disheveled but still curly. She felt pretty much normal now, so she quickly took a shower and dried her hair. The curls only partially came out, leaving her hair with a distinctly "wavy" look. Vaguely irritated, she put on a cream knee-length skirt and a baby blue halter top, laced up her army boots and fixed herself a breakfast bagel. She ate it in her living room so she could watch the news, but the only thing anyone had to talk about was the warehouse explosion of the night before. Speculation was already being made that the attack had been orchestrated by the mob to cover their tracks, or a group of teenagers whose dare had gone wrong. Only one man, a private consultant for the GPD, however, expressed his belief that the mysterious "J," the mastermind behind the Why So Serious ARG, could not be ruled out. As talk turned to the Weston's restaurant shooting, also of the night before, Gwen clicked off the television and walked over to her desk.

Since the beginning of the Joker's ARG, she had kept her lime green laptop on at all times. After quickly checking her e-mail, she logged on to Monster, in the hopes that new job opportunities had surfaced since her last login. Though her parents were paying for her rent and her college education, her checking account was becoming depleted, and she needed a new source of spending money. To her delight, three new possible careers had come up when she logged in. She quickly passed by the first two, a job as a teller at Gotham National Bank and a position in customer service for a major internet provider. The third, however, caught her eye. It was a possible job at the GPD. The advertisement stated that the job would be stationed out of an office and would not bring her into any danger in the field. It also said that someone with experience in psychology was welcome and, since Gwen was going to be a senior in that field come fall, the job seemed tailor made for her. She tried not to get too excited as she submitted her resume.

The morning dragged by. Gwen thought about calling one of her friends, but then remembered that she had never told them about the meeting she was supposed to have had. To bring it up would only invoke unneeded concern about both the explosion and the shooting. Though Gwen felt ridiculous for admitting it even to herself, in light of the warehouse explosion (and the events which surrounded it) she had completely forgotten about the restaurant shooting. Later on, she intended to find out what exactly had occurred inside Weston's which she had so narrowly missed.

Gwen hastily fixed herself a chicken wrap for lunch, then succumbed to her desire to check her e-mail for news about the GPD intern job. A new message from the police department was waiting for her. Trying to keep her excitement in check, she opened it.

The message was short and to the point. She'd been accepted!

Gwen whooped for joy, then immediately called her friend Reeva to share the good news. Even though Reeva's boss didn't like her taking calls while at work, Gwen knew for a fact that he usually went out to lunch, something she'd figured out when Reeva started smuggling her texts during lunch break the month before. She picked up almost at once.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Reeve. It's me. I got a job!"

"Oh, my gosh! You did? Whoo-hoo!"

"I know! I'm so excited!"

"Wow! Have you called Deb and Trace yet?"

"I just found out. You're the first person I called!"

"That's so great, Gwen! I'm so happy for you! What's the job?"

"I'm not sure exactly. Something to do with psychology, for the GPD. I don't know the details yet, but the pay was good, and it said it wouldn't be putting me in any danger in the field. I start tomorrow."

"Sounds great!" Just then, Reeva lowered her voice. "Crap! The boss is back. I've got to go. Great job, G!" The line clicked as she hung up.

**A/N: Ta-daa! There's Chapter One. ...I kind of wore myself out yakking at the beginning, so I don't really have anything to add. Please read, review and check back soon! ~G**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Gosh, everyone! I am *so* sorry that I didn't update sooner, but I have been SO busy! I don't really have anything much to say, except that I'm appreciating the positive reviews, reading all of them, and I'm hoping that everybody's enjoying this! Here's chapter two, so read on! ~G**

**Chapter Two: Congratulations Are in Order**

Gwen spent the rest of the afternoon telephoning her other friends and her parents about the good news. Her mother had an inability to have a short phone conversation, so by the time Gwen finished making all of her calls it was about six. Her stomach growled in protest of a late dinner, inspiring Gwen to make a refrigerator run. As she contemplated what to eat that evening, the doorbell rang.

"Huh?" A little confused, she shut the refrigerator and walked over to the door to her apartment, opening it in one swift motion on the Joker, who immediately dived into the room and slammed the door behind him.

"J?" she asked. "What are you doing here?"

He tilted his head and regarded her, straightening the corners of his suit jacket. "Why, Gwen dear, did you forget? I came for dinner."

Suddenly, Gwen recalled the day before when, at the elevator bank, the Joker had implied he would be stopping by that evening. That, like many of the other details of that night, had disappeared into the fog of her memory. "I am _so_ sorry. I completely forgot."

"Nobody's perfect," the Joker intoned, then for the first time took his eyes off of Gwen and looked around her small studio apartment. The modern kitchen was the first thing one saw when they walked in the door, off to the left of a walkway into the living area. The kitchen's bar seating spilled over into the living space, which featured a flat screen television, one large comfortable couch, a modern blue chair, and a glass-topped coffee table. Behind this area of the single-roomed apartment was Gwen's bed, nightstand and armoire, which were framed by a partial wall of windows which also housed Gwen's desk and laptop. A small bathroom was found off to the right, along with a coat closet located near the door. The entire apartment had a bright, airy feel.

When Gwen rushed back out of the open kitchen holding two plates of hastily made roast beef sandwiches, the Joker was collapsed on her couch, seemingly relaxed. She gingerly held out one of the plates to him; though she thought at first that his eyes were closed, he somehow snatched the plate from her and began eating. Gwen sat down on the armrest of the couch and did the same. After a couple of moments of awkward silence, she asked,

"How did you know where I lived last night, when you were driving?"

Without missing a beat, the Joker responded, "We got you that newspaper, didn't we?"

This was true, and Gwen knew it. It was becoming apparent that after the two of them met at the beginning of the ARG, that fateful day at the comic convention, the Joker had dug up all the personal information about Gwen Fleming that he could possibly find. She still didn't understand the true nature of his feelings towards her.

"So, ah, J….I have good news."

"Do you?"

"…Yes. I got a job."

The Joker opened his eyes and looked at her. "Ah, so I heard. Congratulations are in order, Gwennie. Good, honest clowns have to make a living for themselves, too. So what's the job?"

Gwen thought for a moment. "If you've heard that I got a job, then you must already know what it is."

"Not everybody is as forthcoming as you are, my dear. I have to make sure I've got my facts straight."

"Well…I don't know all of the details yet, but it's some sort of psychology thing for the GPD." She wasn't sure how the Joker would react, but he just chuckled.

"So, wait, wait, wait…you're lending your services to both me _and_ the police? Is that what I just heard?"

"It's not quite like that."

"Not quite like what?"

"….You make it sound like I'm going to betray you in the end. Which I'm not."

"…Are you sure?"

Gwen shook her head. "Yeah. There's no way I would do that."

The Joker set the empty plate on the coffee table with a clatter. He turned to regard her full on, leaning his head on his hand. "I see. In that case, then, I see a lot of opportunities for career advancements. You're a smart, trustworthy clown, Gwennie…who says you can't be a smart, trustworthy cop, too?"

"Are you saying I shouldn't have taken the job?"

"I'm just saying that this puts you in a very…interesting position. _Very _interesting."

"Do you still trust me?"

The Joker didn't flicker for a moment. "Why would I doubt my most useful clown of all?"

**A/N: And there we have it, everyone. Sorry these author's notes are so short...actually, that might not be a bad thing. For all I know, you guys think all I do is ramble. Anyways, I hope I'm still writing good-quality Joker dialogue. In the next chapter, Gwen will be heading in for her first day on the job at the GPD! What might her job be? Who might she see there? (Hint: if you have a friend on this site who is obsessed with Gordon or Ramirez, let them know to tune in!) I hope to have the next chapter up (relatively) soon. Write a review if the mood strikes you. Until next time!! :) ~G**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry that it's been so long, everyone. I'll try to be more consistent, I promise! Anyways, though, my life has been so, SO busy lately, and now to boot I'm fighting off a nasty virus. It was all I could do to crank out this chapter. Read and enjoy! ~G**

**Chapter Three: Welcome to Major Crime**

Gwen woke up the next morning with a flutter in her heart: it was her first day working for the Gotham Police Department! She could hardly believe her good luck as she got up and got dressed. Despite her normally extreme clothing choices, she wanted to make a good impression, and as such took the more conservative route with black dress pants and a frilly purple half-sleeved blouse. She had a quick breakfast, and after a quick battle to get her hair into a ponytail (which failed miserably), she brushed her teeth, grabbed her purse and was out the door.

The GPD was located in downtown Gotham, and since it was rush hour it took Gwen a little longer than it usually would have to get there. However, before too long she was pulling into a guest parking space outside of the building. She regarded the imposing piece of architecture for a moment before managing to swallow her nerves and go inside. The secretary at the front desk directed her to the major crime unit, which apparently took up the rear half of the first floor or so. She managed to find the door without much incident, and with one final deep breath to quell her fear opened the door and stepped inside.

The unit was relatively dark, save for some dim fluorescent lights and the light of desktop computer monitors. Cluttered desks took up a large portion of the space, while private offices lined the sides. A couple of holding cells were situated in the center of the unit, while an interrogation room made up the back wall. A door on the right wall near the interrogation room probably connected to the interrogation room's entrance and the Gotham City Jail.

It was early, but the unit was already buzzing with activity. Uniformed officers rushed in and out, comparing files and transcripts and heading out to their beat. Detectives and other officers sat at their desks, filling out paperwork and giving orders. A man was being interrogated in the interrogation room. Both of the holding cells were empty, but they were the only parts of the room not subjected to some type of activity. It was several minutes before someone noticed her presence, a youngish detective who looked a few years older than Gwen. She gave Gwen a reassuring smile, then disappeared into one of the private offices for a moment. When she returned, she was accompanied by an older man with glasses and a moustache. The two of them headed towards Gwen, and when they reached her, the man said,

"You must be Miss Fleming."

"Yes, sir," Gwen replied, averting her eyes to the floor.

"Welcome to Major Crime. I'm Lieutenant Jim Gordon, and this is Detective Anna Ramirez. She'll be your mentor until you get settled in." Gwen shook hands with both of them, smiling pleasantly. Gordon then gestured around the unit, pointing at several other officers. "That man over there is Detective Gerard Stephens. If you have a question and one of us isn't around, he'll steer you straight. And that's Detective Michael Wuertz. He's one of the senior officers on the force." The list went on, but Gwen couldn't hope to keep track of all of the names. Finally, Gordon turned back to Gwen.

"That will be your desk," he said, pointing to a small desk near to one of the holding cells. It was devoid of paperwork and held a high-quality looking desktop computer. "I hope everything's to your liking."

"Of course," Gwen smiled. "But, sir, if you don't mind me asking, what exactly is my position? It wasn't made clear in the advertisement just what my job would entail."

Gordon and Ramirez glanced at each other, almost imperceptibly. Then, Gordon said, "I'd like this conversation to be a little more private."

With that, he led her and Ramirez over to his personal office, a small, cluttered space with a small television, an oak desk and several comfortable chairs. He gestured for Gwen to take a seat in one of them, while Ramirez carefully shut the door behind them. The lock clicked shut, leaving the three in solitude. Gordon cleared his throat, then spoke.

"Miss Fleming, have you heard of the Why So Serious ARG?"

"Yes, sir."

"What do you know about it?"

More than you think, Gwen thought to herself. Aloud, she replied, "Well, that it's supposed to be an alternate reality game, it sends players on a lot of scavenger hunts, and that its ringleader is someone named J."

"That's fortunate, Miss Fleming. You seem to be in the know. Do you watch the news?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then you realize that one of our goals in bringing down the ARG is to catch J."

"Yes, sir."

"Unfortunately, this 'J', whoever they are, is very clever. They always seem to be one step ahead of us. By now it is becoming obvious, both to myself and the rest of us at Major Crime, that J suffers from a multitude of psychological disorders, making it all the more difficult to attempt and deal with them. Normally in cases like this, we hire a psychoanalyst for the suspect, someone to help us interpret their mental state and determine the best courses of action at any given moment for dealing with them. We don't know a lot about J, but we do know that he's dangerous.

"Your job, Miss Fleming, will be to act as J's psychoanalyst."

Gwen turned the gasp that escaped her lips into a cough. Once she had recovered, she managed to choke out, "Do you think I can handle this, sir?"

"Your credentials were outstanding. We suspect that J is relatively young, and so are you, so the two of you will be able to communicate on the same level. And J will be more likely to trust you than a uniformed officer. If anyone is capable of it, your professors at Gotham University assure me that it is you."

The fact that the GPD had done a background check on Gwen simply drove the point home in her eyes that this was a very serious matter. Both Gordon and Ramirez were waiting for an answer from Gwen, but, frankly, she didn't know what to say. To say yes would mean actively working to bring down the Joker, someone whom she was finding that she cared for very much. But the pay was good, and Gwen needed the job. Would the Joker be disappointed in her? What would this mean for her future in the ARG?

"I'll do it," she said.

**A/N: Well, this chapter was a bit of a pill to write. If you read my last story, you already heard my complaints about writing Joker dialogue. I'm finally getting the hang of it, I think, but now two more tried-and-true characters have entered the mix, Gordon and Ramirez. What are your thoughts? Do they sound like themselves? The next chapter will be a little bit shorter, so be prepared. In it, Gwen will find out what the Joker thinks of her new job! Check back soon! ~G**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I am SO sorry, everybody, for my lack of updates. You all must be furious with me. My life has been so busy, and I promise I'll try to send updates to Elphie more often. In the meantime, enjoy ch. 4. It's pretty short, as I didn't have a ton of time, but here it is nonetheless.**

**Chapter Four: Now That's Prestigious**

Gwen's first day at the GPD wasn't filled with much activity, at least on her part. Gordon was called out around midday for a major drug bust in Gotham's slums, which brought several suspects into custody by two o'clock. Ramirez showed Gwen around the building in the morning, pointing out the archives, internal affairs department, and conference room to her new protégé. They picked up her secure username and password at the front desk, and Gwen spent her lunch break getting to know her new PC as she munched on a chicken salad sandwich Wuertz had picked up for her on a deli run for everyone in Major Crime. (Ramirez told Gwen that Wuertz did that every Thursday.) She also managed to get registered for a parking place, which was actually less convenient than the guest parking place she had taken that morning. Then, someone gave her the full Why So Serious case file to read. Although she already knew every detail of the ARG so far, she couldn't let that on, so she skimmed through it anyways and tried to look interested. Tomorrow, Gordon assured her when he returned from the drug bust, she'd have some real work to do.

At four o'clock, Gwen was informed that that would be her daily departure time. After giving Gordon and Ramirez a polite goodbye, she headed out, hopped into her Toyota, and headed home. When Gwen made it back to her apartment, everything was calm and peaceful. She kicked off her shoes and collapsed on the couch, turning the television to the local news, as usual. Now that she was going to be at work every day, she realized, she was going to need to make sure her cell was always charged. She caught the strap of her purse with the toe of her boot and whipped it around into her lap. As she dug out her cell phone to charge, she saw that it was blinking: one new message.

Gwen quickly put the phone up to her ear and dialed voice mail. The recording began to play almost immediately.

"Good evening, Gwennie," the voice on the other end of the line purred. "Congratulations on your new line of work. My psychoanalyst? Now that's prestigious. Unfortunately for you and me, since your new line of work is so--" He paused for a moment, chuckled. "--dangerous, the GPD is going to be watching you like a hawk. Can't have anything happening to their ace in the hole. So I won't be able to drop by in person as much as both of us may like. And you, my dear, are going to have to be _very_ careful. Do your job. Bring me down. But don't reveal how much you know." The sound of the Joker's now-familiar hysterical laughter filled Gwen's ear, cutting off suddenly when the line went dead.

Gwen couldn't relax after hearing the Joker's message. She went through the motions of a relaxing evening, but her mind was racing. Although the Joker didn't seem to be disappointed in her decision to take the position the GPD offered her--in fact, he'd seemed downright pleased with her--Gwen felt that she had somehow made the wrong choice. This was going to change everything. In the past weeks, she had lived and breathed the ARG. Now she would have to sever all ties with it so that she could do her job and destroy it. She had originally involved herself in the game to take down the Joker, but, well, everything had changed since then. Now she just wasn't sure what was right. Right, wrong, the lines were hopelessly blurred now. Finally, around ten-thirty, she was able to fall into an uneasy sleep.

Despite her not-so-restful night, Gwen woke up the next morning feeling refreshed. Since everyone seemed to have gotten to know her the previous day, she decided to begin to move back towards her regular wardrobe choices. Today her outfit consisted of a highlighter yellow blouse and a brown skirt printed with dull flowers and leaves that fell to her calves in uneven layers. She accessorized with her regular assortment of bangals and a necklace made of wooden block-shaped beads. Once she had eaten and otherwise prepared for the day, Gwen headed out for work.

When Gwen arrived in Major Crime, Ramirez was waiting for her.

"Gordon's not here, but he left us something to do," she told Gwen.

"Us?" Gwen asked. "You don't have to help. You have a job to do, too."

"Actually, no. I'm between cases right now, and even so I'm your mentor. _That's_ my job," Ramirez replied. "Anyways, he'd like us to sift through the Why So Serious case files, along with that forum they took down a couple days ago, Clown Communications Gotham. Look for any new details about J they might need to know during future engagements."

"Such as?"

"You know, skills the person may have, hints at where they may live….their gender, for that matter. Anything that might be useful."

"A-ha."

**A/N: There we have it, everyone. Again, I *promise* to try to update more faithfully. In the meantime, read and review!**

**A/N2: When my friend G says more faithfully, what she's really saying is that it might be several weeks because her dear friend, the one that created this account, is busy packing and getting ready to move and then unpack and get settled, before she is able to update any of her stories. So, it will be more faithful, its just you have to wait quite a few weeks before it can be called faithfully updating… Please bear with me! I swear I'll update as soon as I get settled! **

**~Elphie**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hello, everyone! Sorry that it's been so long since you heard from me. Elphie has been so, SO busy lately, and I didn't want to bother her by sending her a new post. Here I am, though, and look forward to more posts with more frequency towards the end of the month. In the meantime, enjoy Chapter Five! ~G**

**Elphie's A/N: I got this about a week ago, and things were not calmed down! Things are calmer now, but nowhere near calm enough! :~) I'll post this now, to appease the fans. :~) I'm not trying to sound condescending. I haven't been getting enough sleep, so I tend to act differently. Sorry. **

Chapter Five: Charming, Handsome Man with Dazzling Smile

As the two of them got to work at Gwen's desk, Ramirez explained to her that the entirety of ClownCommunicationsGotham . com had been saved on GPD's private server. Every post on every thread was there, just waiting to be read through. (This made Gwen a little bit nervous, since she had been a user herself, but surely the GPD didn't know that.) Ramirez pulled up a chair to Gwen's monitor and they set up two windows onscreen, one on the top half and one on the bottom, and the two of them began to read. The work of reading every post on the site was time consuming, and an hour later Gwen had decided that it wasn't going to bear any fruition.

"Ramirez, I'm not sure looking through this forum is going to help," Gwen finally said around ten.

"Why not?"

"Well, based on what I've read it's unofficial, for one thing. J seems to have had no direct involvement in this site. So shouldn't we check things that J wrote personally first, by his--or her," she quickly corrected herself. She couldn't reveal that she knew J was male. "own hand?"

Ramirez thought for a moment. "Personally, I'm not sure. But you're the psychoanalyst. What you say goes."

Gwen logged off of her computer and the two of them started flipping through the Why So Serious case files, which had been left on Gwen's desk from the day before. Gwen was glad she'd spoken up almost immediately.

"Hey, Ramirez, look at this!" she said excitedly, pointing at a copy of the classified ad correction the Gotham Times had run a couple of months ago. The ad had led ARG players to give their e-mail addresses to J, setting them up for future encounters.

"_Charming, handsome man with dazzling smile_?" Ramirez read aloud from the opening sentence of the correction. "Great job, Miss Fleming. If J wasn't lying in the advertisement, which we can't rule out, this means that he's definitely a man."

"You can call me Gwen, Detective Ramirez. But I don't really think he's lying."

"What makes you say that?" Ramirez asked.

"Well, I've been reading through this file, and from what I can tell J never lied to the ARG players. Not once. Even if it was about something illegal, he always kept his word. So why would he lie about his gender in the classified ad?"

Ramirez thought for a moment. "You're very good, Gwen."

"Thank you," Gwen grinned, blushing, and the two of them got back to work.

Gordon arrived at Major Crime while Gwen and Ramirez were eating lunch. He walked over to them first thing.

"How's the work going, Detective?" he asked, addressing Ramirez. His eyes, however, were glued on Gwen's outrageous outfit.

"Excellent," Ramirez replied with a proud sort of smile. "Miss Fleming thinks we've positively identified the Joker as a male, and we've found a potential weakness he has. He always keeps to his word."

"Really?" Gordon asked, intrigued. "Sounds like things are going well. In that case, Ramirez, I'd like to have you continue sifting through these files for similar information. I have a different job for Miss Fleming."

"Yes, sir," Gwen said, rising to her feet. "What is it?"

"Some of our senior officers have requested a psychological profile to be made on J. Do you think you can do one?"

Gwen hesitated for a moment. "…I've never done a real profile before, sir, to be honest. I've made a couple of practice ones before, but they were all for very well-known criminals."

"I have confidence in you, Miss Fleming. You've only been working here for one day, and yet you've discovered something many of our officers have overlooked--J's gender. You seem to be very observant. If one can be made, you are just as qualified to make it as anyone else here."

"Thank you for faith in me, sir. I'll get to work right away," she said with a nod of her head.

Gwen spent the rest of the afternoon at the computer monitor, clipboard in hand, pencil tucked behind her ear, analyzing all of the information the GPD had managed to compile on J since the comic book store break-in. He hadn't committed any serious crimes, making it difficult to follow the general four-step process for criminal profiling. Instead, she decided to focus on the aspects of his personality J had revealed in his first-person writings to develop a psychological diagnosis, pretending that J had simply filled out a questionnaire which it was her job to analyze. Unfortunately, the going was slow, and she was having trouble pinning down a single disease that J might be suffering from.

Gwen bade Ramirez goodbye at four and promised Gordon the profile would be completed by Monday. On the way home, she received a call on her cell from Deb and Tracy's apartment. It was a simple matter to pop her Bluetooth headset into her ear at a red light and press "Accept" on her cell.

**A/N: And there's Chapter Five down. I know that's kind of a weird place to stop, but it was the best way to divide it up that I could think of without making this chapter insanely long. ...One thing that has been challenging about writing this story is coming up with Joker-worthy stunts to pull before the start of TDK. It was easier in my first story, because his actions were determined by the real constraints of the ARG. Now, though, I'm flying solo. What happens next chapter is all me. ...Hope you're looking forward to it! :) ~G**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I know that I've been being very inconsistent with my posts, but bear with me, please! Elphie has been very, very busy, and so have I, and between the two of us we just haven't had time to scrape anything together. Forgive me, and rest assured that more updates will be coming soon, and more often! I hope that you are enjoying what I'm doing with the story so far. Coming up with crimes for the Joker to perpetrate is hard, because I don't want to rip off the movie, but I also want them to seem like something he would do. Before long, you'll witness the first of my creations! Let me know how you judge my decision. Ask yourself, "What would the Joker do?" as you read the coming chapters. ~G**

**Chapter Six: Wayne Enterprises**

"Hello?"

"What's going on witcha, Gwen?" It was Deb; that much was obvious.

"Not a ton. Just heading home from work, that's all."

"Oh, that's right, you're a working woman now. You're all grown up!" Deb's voice choked up with fake emotion.

"Geez, Deb, you're not my mom."

"I hope somebody's told you what exactly you're doing over at the GPD by now."

"Oh, they did. Yesterday, actually. Yeah…I'm actually the psychoanalyst on the Why So Serious case."

"Wait a second, what? Are you sure that's a good job for you, G? You don't want to slip up and spill the beans or anything."

"I know, I know. But--" Gwen stopped herself: she'd been about to say that the Joker had assured her that it would be alright. "The pay was good, and I don't think I'll say anything stupid."

"Yeah, but it doesn't hurt to be careful. Promise you'll watch it, okay, Gwen? Don't need you of all people getting arrested."

"Thanks, Deb. I promise."

Gwen slaved over the psychological profile the entire weekend, but on Monday was proud to turn it in to Lieutenant Gordon the second she walked into Major Crime. He scanned it quickly, then beckoned her into his office to discuss her findings, gesturing for Ramirez to come, as well. Once everyone was settled in, he began to read aloud from the report.

"Antisocial personality disorder…psychopathy….psychosis….possible bipolar disorder…Miss Fleming, is there anything you believe that J _isn't_ suffering from?"

"I know it looks like a lot, sir. I'm not going out on a limb here. I did hours of research on this, and I've come to the conclusion that J's symptoms are not consistent with one single disease. He seems to exhibit many of the symptoms characteristic of all of the diseases I've listed here."

"Are you certain that he has all of these disorders?"

"Unless he's suffering from a disease that hasn't been discovered yet. There's simply no disease that exactly fits the bill."

"I see." Gordon didn't seem to be taking this well. "How are we expected to deal with him, anyways?"

Gwen took a deep breath. "Very, very carefully. I'm being honest when I tell you that not even I am going to be able to predict his behaviors with one hundred percent accuracy." Wasn't that the truth?, Gwen thought to herself.

No one had assigned any other work for Gwen, so she and Ramirez spent the morning looking through more of the Why So Serious case files. Unfortunately, there weren't any more major breakthroughs, although many of their findings supported the psychological profile Gwen had compiled for J. At eleven, an officer Gwen hadn't met before named Raymond Berg arrived with Chinese takeout for everyone. Although Gwen had made herself a roast-beef sandwich that morning, she was a sucker for egg rolls, and the sweet and sour pork wasn't too bad, either. As she threw away her takeout box, she took a look at the clock on the wall. One; three more hours of looking through the case files before she went home. She shook her head as she returned to her desk. Somebody needed to give her some real work to do!

Suddenly, the wail of the police radio filled the room. Everyone's walkie-talkies were buzzing as the voice on the other end of the lines announced a long string of numerical codes. Gwen didn't know what the numbers meant, but before she could ask what was happening the room was in chaos. Most of the uniformed officers grabbed some last-minute tools and were gone in a second, leaving only the detectives, senior officers and Gwen. Gordon had made it out of his room before the dispatcher was finished speaking and was now barking orders to the other workers of Major Crime.

"What's going on?" Gwen asked Ramirez, who was hastily loading her handgun. "Where are you going?"

"Same place you're going," Ramirez answered gravely, rising to her feet. "Wayne Enterprises."

"But what's happening at Wayne Enterprises?" Gwen wanted to know as she, Ramirez and Stephens dashed down the hallways of the GPD after Gordon. She had no idea what was going on, but Ramirez and Stephens certainly seemed to know where they were headed.

"I'll explain in a minute."

Seconds later, the party of three emerged from the building into a side lot which was half-filled with police vans. Even as Gwen watched, some of them were pulling out and heading down the street in the direction of Wayne Enterprises, lights whirring. Ramirez and Stephens kept going, so Gwen followed them to the van on the left. Gordon was already inside, giving instructions to the driver.

"Why am I going?" Gwen tried to ask for a final time. She buckled her seat belt as the van began to back out of the lot.

"We're going to need you, Miss Fleming," Stephens replied. "You're J's psychoanalyst."

Gwen felt her blood run cold. "What…what did J do?"

"He's sent a bomb threat to Lucius Fox, CEO of Wayne Enterprises. We don't know many of the details yet."

**A/N: Alright, then, everyone, there you have it. I promise that I'll try to get the next chapter up soon, so bear with Elphie and me! The end is in sight. ~G**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Gosh, guys, you're starting to make me feel like I'm writing this story for no one! Is anybody out there?! ...If so, here's Chapter Seven. Maybe it will relieve your suspense a little bit as to the fate or Wayne Enterprises. In this chapter, Gwen meets Lucius Fox and finds out the details of the Joker's threat. Read on to learn them for yourselves! ~G**

**Chapter Seven: I Always Say**

Sirens blaring, the police van sped through the streets of Gotham. Normally it would have taken them a quarter hour to make it to Wayne Enterprises in the heavy traffic that resulted from a return to work after lunch break. However, Gwen's van was able to make it to the building in about five minutes. By the time they'd arrived, virtually every police vehicle in the city had arrived as well. Several bomb squads had been called in and were beginning a floor-by-floor search of the building. Gwen knew that this could take hours, and in the meantime the building was being evacuated. The parking lot was already starting to empty out as accountants and secretaries fled the scene.

Gordon immediately disappeared into the throng of officers and started giving orders. "You two, help with the evacuations! And you, get the bomb squad authorization to search the confidential parts of the third floor!"

"What am I supposed to do?" Gwen asked Ramirez in a quiet voice.  
"We're not really expecting any first-person contact with J, so all you're going to need to do is confirm that the message was written by him."

Gwen breathed a sigh of relief. "Is that all?" She'd read enough of the Joker's messages, both to her personally and to the ARG players as a whole, that this job was probably going to be easy.

Ramirez led Gwen up to the police barrier that surrounded the building. An officer standing there tried to stop them, but once Ramirez flashed him her badge he let them both through with minimal hesitation. Gwen had never been inside Wayne Enterprises before, and she couldn't help but gape at the beautiful decorations and finishes that surrounded her as she and the detective dashed through the lobby. It was downright depressing to see such a luscious building being ripped apart by the bomb squad. Gwen had always had an eye for design.

"The elevators are down, so we're going to have to take the stairs," explained Ramirez. As she spoke, she led Gwen to a small side doorway next to the elevators. "Mr. Fox is supposed to be in his private office, on the thirty-second floor."

"Thirty-second floor?" Gwen shouted in spite of herself. "Why didn't he evacuate with everybody else?"

"Mr. Fox is a very eccentric man, Miss Fleming," Ramirez replied. "He insisted that he stay in his office to safeguard some of the confidential areas of the building from harm."

"How does he plan to do that?" Gwen panted. The endless flights of stairs were already getting to her. "If they've got to check the floor, they've got to check the floor, confidential or not, right?"

"I don't know what Mr. Fox means to do about it, but he refuses to leave. I can't imagine it's easy to say no to a man who's funding part of your paycheck."

After what seemed like an eternity, the door for the thirty-second floor loomed before them. Ramirez's job required her to be fit, but despite Gwen's lean frame she didn't exercise much. The detective turned around to find Gwen half-collapsed on the stair rail. Once Gwen had somewhat regained her composure, she and Ramirez stepped through the doorway and on to Floor 32.

The bomb squads were working from the top of the building down and from the bottom up, and as the thirty-second floor remained somewhere between the two it had not been ransacked just yet. Crisp white walls, and neat-looking private offices filled the floor, vaguely reminiscent of an airier, less cluttered version of those in Major Crime. The place was completely deserted, Gwen thought at first, until a man appeared in the doorway to a private office at the other end of the hallway and beckoned them down.

"Mr. Fox?" Ramirez asked as she and Gwen took their seats in the plush chairs in the CEO's office. He nodded. "Hi. I'm Detective Anna Ramirez--" she punctuated this statement with a quick flash of her badge. "--and this is Gwen Fleming. She's a private consultant of the GPD, and the psychoanalyst on the Why So Serious case."

"Pleased to meet you both," Fox smiled cordially, shaking both their hands as he said it. "I was told that you may have some questions for me."

"Not many, sir," Gwen responded. "I'm only here to positively identify the message you received today as something written by the Why So Serious ringleader."

"I see. J, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Go ahead, please."

Gwen took a deep breath. In the panic that had ensued when the bomb threat first came in, she hadn't made out any questions at all. "Could you please describe for me the events surrounding your receiving of this e-mail?"

"…To be honest, there really wasn't anything all that unusual about today. I came in to work, logged into my computer and took care of some administrative worries, and then went to a board meeting. Nothing out of the ordinary."

"The e-mail wasn't there when you arrived here this morning?"

"No. It came in around one."

"Have you given your e-mail address to anyone recently?"

"That's the truly perplexing thing about this entire matter," Mr. Fox explained. "I have two e-mail addresses: an address for work and a private address. I don't make a habit of giving the latter out, but that's the address the message was sent to."

"So who _does_ know your private address?"

"Oh, let's see…only my family and Mr. Wayne, I believe." None of this was helping. Why would a billionaire give one of his closest coworkers' e-mail addresses to the Joker, anyways? The same question could be asked of Mr. Fox's family.

"Mr. Fox, would it be possible for me to read the message for myself?"

"Of course," the older man replied. He swiveled his chair around to face his computer, clicked the mouse a couple of times, and then turned the monitor so that Gwen and Ramirez could see.

The message was brief:

_Dear Mr. Lucius Fox,_

_I always say that a man never knows the measure of his clowns until they're stuck in a crisis. Maybe a couple of blasts downstairs will help you learn how useful those accountants of yours really are._

_~J_

**A/N: Looks like this story is starting to heat up, no? In writing this (rather long) chapter, my job became a bit harder; I had to once again assume the voice of the Joker, which is always a challenge, and I also had to write for Lucius Fox, another new one for me. I dearly hope that I've portrayed both men truly. If you approve, I encourage you to write a review. I'm starting to wonder if anybody's reading me these days. If so, be prepared...next chapter Gwen Fleming is introduced to Bruce Wayne! ~G**

**Elphie here. Seriously, is anybody reading this? Um… That sounds really harsh. LOL. Well, G and I were planning on writing a joint fic this summer, and I wanted to let y'all know. Also, I am leaving for summer camp on the seventh, and I'll be gone for 2 weeks, so I won't be able to update. And G and I are going overseas with our youth group July 17-28. (I think those are the dates…) So, again, no updates during that period. If any more vacations come up, I'll be sure to let you guys know. Please review!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I'm back, finally!! Elphie has been nice enough to grant me joint access to her account, so look forward to more frequent updates than have been occurring lately. Yay! I'd also like to thank all of my reviewers and readers. Your support is much appreciated and inspires me to continue writing. At last, in this (perhaps) much-awaited chapter, Gwen meets the mysterious Bruce Wayne for the very first time. Batman fans rejoice, I suppose. :) How will Bruce react to Gwen? More importantly, what's Gwen going to think of Bruce? And what might the Joker say? Answers will arrive in the following chapters! ~G**

**Chapter Eight: Good Afternoon, Mr. Wayne**

Gwen studied it for a moment. The messaged was signed the same way as the Joker's other messages, and the writer referred to Fox's employees as "clowns." When she thought about it, she could hear the Joker reading the e-mail aloud. It sounded exactly like something he would write. She turned to Ramirez and nodded.

"It's his. He wrote it. I'm almost certain."

Ramirez quickly whipped out her walkie-talkie and transmitted Gwen's confirmation to Gordon. He replied that the bomb squad hadn't found anything yet, but appreciated the verification that this wasn't a copycat J letter.

"Lucius," an unfamiliar voice said. Gwen and Ramirez jerked around from their gadgets, shocked, only to see a tall, dark-haired man leaning in the doorway of Mr. Fox's office. He hadn't introduced himself, but Gwen had seen his face more than enough in the newspaper and the tabloids to know who he was: Bruce Wayne.

"Oh, good afternoon, Mr. Wayne," Mr. Fox smiled, rising to his feet. "I thought you might have evacuated with everyone else."

"Like you, I felt an obligation to stay," Mr. Wayne said smoothly. He then seemed to notice the two young women next to Mr. Fox. "Lucius, you didn't introduce me to your new friends."

"Ah, forgive me. This is Detective Anna Ramirez. She's with the GPD. And this is Gwen Fleming. She's the psychoanalyst on the Why So Serious case, and she accompanied the detective to positively identify the bomb threat as written by J."

"Well, what's the verdict?" Wayne asked, suddenly interested.

Gwen's mouth had stopped working. She felt very uncomfortable being in the same room with a famous playboy, much less having a conversation with him. "It's…it's his. I'm pretty sure that J wrote it, that is."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" Wayne probed.

Gwen thought for a minute, feeling for all the world like a fish flailing out of water. "Well, it means that we now know who we're dealing with, which is definitely good. But we also have to take the threat seriously now. The entire building is going to have to be searched."

An almost imperceptible look passed between Wayne and Mr. Fox.

"I'm afraid that there are several floors that the bomb squad will not have access to," Mr. Fox finally said.

"Sir, I'm afraid that they'll have to search them sooner or later," Ramirez broke in. Wayne looked from the detective to Mr. Fox, and then back to Ramirez. "Until they're searched, the building will still be considered under threat."

"How inconvenient," Mr. Fox finally said. "But I suppose nothing can be done about it."

Gwen looked at Ramirez, mentally begging her to get them out of there. Ramirez appeared to catch her drift, for she quickly said, "If you'll excuse us, Mr. Fox, Mr. Wayne, we need to get back downstairs."

"Of course," Mr. Fox smiled. "Mr. Wayne and I were pleased to meet you both."

"Naturally," Wayne said. He didn't move a muscle from the doorway, so Ramirez and Gwen had to squeeze past him to get out. As they passed, he shook hands with both of them. He had a very firm grip, and he looked at Gwen very intensely as she passed him by. She managed a little smile before she fled for the stairwell. Inwardly, she was disgusted to have the attention of someone like Bruce Wayne. What was that supposed to make her? And what would the Joker say if he found out?

It was a lot faster going down the stairs then up them, and once they were safely back on the ground, Gordon gave Gwen the all-clear to head back to GPD. Without a badge to her name, her job for the day was complete, unless first-person contact was made with J. In that case, Gwen would be called back in to advise the negotiator, but no one seemed to be seriously considering that possibility. Gwen caught a ride with a street cop, who dropped her off at her car before turning back to Wayne Enterprises. Gwen drove home and clicked on the news, eager to see new developments in the case. About an hour after she left, Batman was reported to have appeared on the scene. None of the reporters were allowed inside, however, so the report could neither be confirmed or denied, and no one had any idea what he was doing in there. Gwen ordered pizza for dinner, and just as she was settling into her couch to eat it the all-clear was given for Wayne Enterprises. The building was safe, but this brought a new dimension to the Why So Serious case; J hadn't broken his word by failing to deliver the bomb, as he had never promised to have one in the first place, but he had spent the day playing with the GPD. J, it seemed, was capable of playing jokes.

**A/N: Well, there we have it, and I must say, that this was very challenging for me to write. This was my first 100% original Joker plot, one not influenced by the promotional ARG that took place in real life. Do you think that I did a good job? Did the Joker's character shine through? Please review if you can, in order to let me know how I did. Next chapter, look forward to Gwen meeting a couple more familiar faces! Excited? Until next time! ~G**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: It took me a little bit longer to get back to this than I might have hoped, but regardless, here's Chapter Nine! ~G**

**Chapter Nine: You Seem So Young**

A week or so after the Wayne Enterprises bomb scare, Gwen found out that an arrest had been made. Her immediate fear was that the Joker had been taken into custody, but about five minutes later she found out that that was not the case. Apparently, the suspect was a Wayne Enterprises employee named Timothy Swann who had allegedly hacked Lucius Fox's PC, obtained his private e-mail address, and given it to J. Swann confessed to everything, and the trial was set for that Friday. Gordon and Detective Wuertz were attending, and Gordon was polite enough to ask Gwen if she wished to go. Gwen had never attended a trial before, but considering that police psychoanalyst may well be her new line of work she felt that it wouldn't hurt, and thus accepted the invitation.

The trial began at nine a.m. sharp on Friday morning. Gwen came in to work like normal, and then she, Gordon and Wuertz rode down the courthouse in Gordon's private car. Since Swann had already confessed, Gwen expected the court to be nearly empty, but instead it was packed to the brim with city officials and the higher-ups from Wayne Enterprises. As the trio slid into their seats near the back doors, Gwen spotted Mr. Fox seated next to Bruce Wayne across the aisle. Wayne saw her almost at once, but instead of smiling or greeting her he simply looked at her. Slightly unnerved, Gwen turned her attention to the judge, an older woman named Surillo, who was now beginning the trial proceedings.

Since Wayne Enterprises' funds were so closely related to those of the city of Gotham, District Attorney Harvey Dent represented the city in the trial. Swann pled guilty, and then Dent proceeded to present his evidence, which (obviously) was very incriminating. His assistant, Rachel Dawes was there as well, and she also made a short case against Swann. Gwen was impressed by her charisma. The defense had basically no case at all, and after almost no deliberation Swann was declared guilty, and sentenced to several months in jail with the possibility of parole.

After the trial, Gordon and Wuertz both got into discussions with some of their business-minded acquaintances about the trial proceedings. To Gwen, it was obvious that they weren't leaving right away, so she decided it wouldn't hurt to introduce herself to Rachel Dawes. As she weaved her way through the crowd towards her, Gwen remembered the trailer spoof her friends had seen at the movie theater following the New Hampton Court scavenger hunt. Deb had told her later about the poor-quality actors that had portrayed Harvey and Rachel. She nearly laughed at the thought of someone trying to mimic the behavior of the spry and energetic Dawes.

When Gwen made it over to Rachel, she was standing with Harvey as he and a posh looking businessman discussed local politics.

"I've never been to a trial before, but you really impressed me, Miss Dawes," Gwen said with a smile. Rachel laughed, a bit embarrassed at the attention.

"I didn't do very well today, actually. Harvey here had to pull most of the weight," she replied, giving him a playful slap on the arm.

"Hey!" Dent shouted. "What was that for? …Hey, who's your friend?"

"Oh, sorry, I didn't introduce myself. My name's Gwen Fleming. I'm psychoanalyst on the Why So Serious case."

"Wow," Rachel commented. "You seem so young."

"Yeah, I'm still in college, actually," Gwen shrugged. "I guess they thought I knew what I was doing."

"Apparently," Dent replied, waving goodbye to the man he was speaking with. Then, his gaze shifted from Gwen to something behind her. She whipped around, only to find herself looking up at Bruce Wayne.

"Rachel," he said. "Fancy seeing you here." He didn't mention Dent at all.

"Hello, Bruce. How have you been?" Gesturing to Gwen, she added, "This is Gwen Fleming. She's on the Why So Serious case, so she came to attend the trial."

"Yes, we've met," Wayne responded, looking at Gwen once again. "I was just coming over to talk to her."

Rachel looked from Bruce to Gwen, then turned to Harvey. "Well, we'd better be getting back to the office, anyways. Nice to meet you, Gwen. …Goodbye, Bruce."

Gwen waved and smiled pleasantly, but the second Rachel and Harvey were out of sight she whipped around to face Bruce. "Miss Dawes and I were trying to have a conversation, Mr. Wayne. What did you wish to talk to me about?"

"Oh, I was just wondering what you thought of the trial, Miss Fleming."

Gwen sighed. "Well, if that's all you wanted to talk about, I'm afraid I'm not going to be a very good conversation partner. I'm not up on my legal jargon, so I didn't follow most of the proceedings."

"Then why did you come to the trial, if you knew you wouldn't follow what was happening?"

"My new job is with the GPD, right? If I stick with it, I'll probably have to attend a lot of trials, and the best way to understand what's going on is by witnessing it firsthand. Or, at least, I thought so."

Just then, Gwen spotted Gordon and Wuertz heading for the door. "Sorry to cut our conversation short, Mr. Wayne--" Sorry? Ha! "--but my party's leaving. See you soon."

**A/N: I hope everybody enjoyed this installment. As I've had to do in the past, in this chapter I was forced to write dialogue for well-established characters in Christopher Nolan's universe: Rachel Dawes and Harvey Dent. Do you think my winning streak in terms of accurate portrayal has continued? Also, did anybody mention that passing mention of Judge Surillo? (Remember her?) Coming soon: Gwen and the Joker meet again! ~G**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Hello, everyone. I'm extremely sorry that it's taken me so long to post again. My life has been crazy hectic and remains so, but I simply didn't want to neglect my story any longer. So here's Chapter Ten. I hope that everyone enjoys! ~G**

**Chapter Ten: My Girl**

As Gwen drove home from work that day, she found herself stewing over the cryptic actions of Mr. Bruce Wayne. First, there was that confrontation at Wayne Enterprises. Then he showed up at Swann's trial (and why did he do that, anyways? Fox is the CEO of the company, not him!), asked to talk to Gwen, and then had basically nothing to say. He'd also interrupted Gwen's conversation with Rachel Dawes to talk to her. Reeva had told Gwen once that Rachel and Bruce were childhood friends. Was it possible that Bruce was trying to make Rachel…jealous? Gwen rolled her eyes. What did a playboy like Bruce have to gain by making one little lawyer jealous? Unless of course…

Just as Gwen was pulling into the parking garage, her cell phone started vibrating. She always made sure to turn off the ring while she was at work, and usually just ignored it when her phone went off. She pulled into a guest parking place off the garage entrance, not about to try to navigate the garage while talking on the phone, and answered.

"Hello?"

"Good evening, Gwennie." It was the Joker. "Have any police homework to do?"

"What? No…no, I'm not doing anything."

"Then mosey on over to the Lovin' Oven on Twelfth Avenue. It's about time I met my girl for dinner, don't you think?" The line cut off before Gwen could respond.

"'My girl?'" Gwen asked herself as she backed out of the parking place again and set off for the Lovin' Oven. Although she found it odd that the Joker had just referred to her as such, she realized with a jolt that she didn't actually _mind_.

Gwen arrived at the Lovin' Oven about fifteen minutes after the Joker called. When she went in, she was surprised to see the same boy working the counter that had been there when she'd come to pick up Robin Bank's cake, back in the days of the ARG. The bakery was empty. She walked up to the counter and said,

"I'm, ah, here to see--"

Before she'd even finished her sentence, the boy, who was probably in his late teens, lifted up a segment of the counter so she could pass through. Once she was behind the counter, he pointed her towards the kitchen door and resumed his post at the cash register. With one more hesitant look, she opened the gleaming metal doors and stepped through into the kitchen.

The kitchen didn't seem to be in any sort of active mode; Gwen assumed that everything that was to be baked that day was already out in front. The countertops were all dusted in a fine coat of flour, but were devoid of any ingredients. Everything had clearly been safely stored away until tomorrow. If it weren't for the flour, she wouldn't have guessed that this kitchen had been in use for several days. In the back of the kitchen, a small table was laid out, complete with a small bouquet of flowers, placemats, utensils, and two plates of devil's food cake. The Joker was seated in the chair at the right, and he beckoned for her to join him in the chair to the left.

"My dear Gwen," he said when she was seated, half-murmuring to himself. "You've finally arrived."

"Yes," she nodded.

"So, ah…how's your new job going?" the Joker asked, taking a bite out of the cake before him as he spoke. Hesitantly, Gwen took a bite out of hers as well. It was delicious. "Made any new friends?"

"I've met some nice people, yes."

"Like who?"

"Well, let's see…Lieutenant Gordon is very kind, of course. I've also met Stephens and Wuertz, the detectives, and my mentor's name is Ramirez."

"Wuertz…" the Joker paused, seemingly pondering something. His eyes lit up with clarity. "Wuertz. Yes. I think I know your buddy Wuertz. And what was your mentor's name? Ramirez?"

"That's her."

The Joker chuckled, a bit ominously. "Who knows? Before long, I might know Ramirez, too."

They ate in silence for a couple of moments. Then, Gwen said, "I notice you've laid off the ARG lately."

"Yes, yes, I admit it, I have. What can I say? Opportunity knocked, and I answered."

Gwen paused for a moment. "Opportunity? As in, some guy offers to sell you Lucius Fox's e-mail address?"

The Joker grinned. His gloved hand snaked across the table and grasped Gwen's. "I heard you were involved in that one, Gwennie dear. After all, you are my psychoanalyst. Can't expect the GPD to leave you at home, no matter how dangerous the situation may be."

"Well, I had to do my job," Gwen responded. "Hey, J, can I ask you something?"

"Would I say no?"

Gwen didn't answer that. "Not that I would have preferred that you did this, but….why didn't you plant the bomb at Wayne Enterprises, anyways? That really threw me, I have to say."

The Joker cackled, his laughs echoing off the walls of the kitchen. Gwen hoped they were soundproof. He gripped her hand even tighter as he shook with mirth. Once he'd recovered, he said,

"It's simple, really, beautiful. Life's a joke, and why would I miss an opportunity to laugh at it?"

"…So was that it? You just wanted to screw around with the cops?"

The Joker paused for a moment, his face growing serious. "Do you really want to know?"

"Yes, I do."

"…I had to figure out whether or not they'd send you into the line of fire if I was causing trouble."

"Why did you need to know that?"

"Use your head," the Joker insisted. "If you're in the line of fire, am I going to shoot?"

Suddenly everything clicked in Gwen's head. He was planning his actions around the amount of danger it would place her in, on whether the GPD would send her in to investigate or not. He had sent the Wayne Enterprises bomb threat to test out what the police would do with Gwen. He was creating chaos…so that she would be safe.

Gwen sat in stunned silence for several moments before letting out a half-choked laugh. "I don't know whether I should be flattered or not."

The Joker laughed at that, a quieter, more controlled laugh this time. With his free hand, he reached out and brushed a lock of Gwen's hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on the side of her face. Quietly, he said,

"You are one amazing clown."

**A/N: That was a pretty long chapter, but I dearly hope that it was up to par. As I've said before, making the Joker sound like himself but still say what he needs to say is a real challenge, especially in a scene like this. Do you think that I've nailed him again? Next chapter, you can look forward to learning the Joker's next move. Until then! ~G**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Hi, everyone! Aren't you proud of me, back so soon AND with the next installment? :) Anyways, here's Chapter Eleven, which means that my story is about halfway done! (Yup, it's a lot longer than The Heart Behind the Madness, the prequel. If you haven't read that, go back and do so!) Please continue to read, subscribe and review! Your support is precious to me! ~G**

**Chapter Eleven: Smile**

Gwen slept peacefully that night and dreamed happy dreams. The next morning, her mind still buzzing from the events of the night before, she shrugged on a scarlet short-sleeved shirt with a hood and a pair of pale yellow Capri pants and headed into work. As she headed downtown towards the building, she thought she heard the whirring of helicopters in the distance. But as the GPD came into view, her blood ran cold.

The entire building was surrounded by a myriad of bomb squad vehicles. Even as she watched, another troop of them stormed inside. Police helicopters whirred overhead, circling the GPD headquarters. Media vans were parked up and down the entire street, reporting on the chaos before them. The entire GPD staff seemed to be gathered in the front lot, milling about among the parked cars as they watched their building being ransacked.

Gwen parked near the corner and quickly filled the parking meter with quarters before making a beeline for her building. About halfway there, she was accosted by a news crew who asked for her opinion on the GPD emergency.

"I'd love to answer your question, but for the moment I'd like to find out what the emergency is," she answered, shaking them off before they could respond.

From the outside, the building looked fine, as Gwen saw when she reached her destination. She quickly scanned the crowd, looking for familiar faces, but saw none. Growing more anxious as each second passed, she began to fight her way closer to the building, looking desperately for someone she knew: Gordon, Ramirez, anyone. Finally, she spotted Detective Stephens standing alone by one of the parked cars, presumably his, grimly surveying the scene. She ran up to him, panting.

"Stephens! What's going on?"

"Miss Fleming! You're here. Thank goodness."

"Sir, I just got here. Could you please tell me what's going on? Why are all these bomb squads here?"

Stephens looked away from her, back towards the building. Another team was going in through the front doors. "Long story short, we received a package in the mail around seven this morning."

"A package?" Gwen asked, perplexed. "What's so special about that?"

"It's from J."

"Oh, no," she said. "It is? Are you sure?"

"The only way to be one hundred percent is to open and see. That's what the bomb squad is here for."

"Right, right, I've got you now. I understand. You think the package contains explosives."

"We couldn't rule out that possibility, but with J, one can never be sure."

You have no idea, Gwen thought to herself.

The GPD crisis persisted throughout the morning. Gwen and Detective Stephens managed to locate Gordon over by one of the bomb squad vans, and the threesome discussed the situation as the hours ticked by. All of Gwen's friends called at least once to make sure she was alright.

"Don't get blown to bits," warned Reeva.

"Be really careful!" Tracy begged.

"Whatever you do, don't go in until they tell you to," Deb advised her. "Better yet, wait until they tell you, and then wait until everybody else has gone in. Then you'll _know_ it's safe."

Then, Gwen's mom called, and it took twenty minutes to convince her that she really was playing it safe. Around ten, the bomb squads announced the all-clear: the package had been opened, and no explosives were inside. However, they implied that something had been found, as they didn't take the package with them when they left. The GPD staff waited until the last of the bomb squads had departed to reenter their building.

Unlike the Wayne Enterprises bomb scare, the GPD had not been completely and utterly destroyed on the inside, since the bomb squads already knew where the bomb would have been located, had it been the real thing. The package had been left in Major Crime, the division of the building to which it had been sent. Gordon, Stephens and Gwen were the first people back in the unit.

The package was sitting inside one of the holding cells, the brightest places in the room, and the easiest places to see just what had been inside of it. Despite the all-clear, the three approached the box a bit cautiously. Gwen walked in to the holding cell first. The box was simplistic and made of cardboard. The flaps had been torn open, revealing that the package was filled almost to the brim with packing peanuts. Gwen looked back at Stephens and Gordon, both of whom were filing into the cell behind her.

"May I touch it?"

"Go ahead," Gordon nodded. "It's safe now."

With that, Gwen began digging through the packing peanuts, looking for something, anything, inside of it. After a couple of moments, her fingers brushed a sheet of paper, which she quickly took hold of and pulled out of the box.

"I've found something," she reported. The paper was yellowed and old-looking, folded in four.

"Open it," Gordon ordered.

Gingerly, Gwen unfolded the paper, only to see it had been inscribed with a short note in spidery handwriting. Gwen paused for a moment, and then read it aloud.

_Dear Lieutenant Gordon,_

_This letter marks a sad date, indeed: the end of the wonderful game I've been playing with the youth of Gotham. Yes, their fun is done, but I've moved on to bigger and better things. A guy like me has to keep moving. Don't despair…I'm sure we'll meet again…_

_Smile._

_~The Joker_

**A/N: Ta-da! Personally, I think that that is some of the best Joker dialogue I've put together so far in the entire story. I was quite proud of myself when I wrote that, but if you disagree, please let me know. I love to hear your comments. Be looking forward to Chapter Twelve, in which the infinitely rich and famous Bruce Wayne gives Gwen a surprise she was never expecting! Wayne fans, hang on to your hats! ~G**


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Long time, no see, everyone! Again, I apologize for taking so long between posts, and I will try to do better, but please don't be disheartened if I don't update again for a while. I *will* finish the story, this I swear! …Anyways, in this chapter, read on for a major surprise from Mr. Bruce Wayne! Enjoy! ~G

Chapter Twelve: You Deserve a Toast

**Gwen looked up to find the majority of the Major Crime Unit having filed in behind Gordon and Stephens and lined up on the front wall. All regarded her gravely. Finally, Gordon broke the silence.**

"**Miss Fleming, do you have anything to say about the note?"**

**Gwen read over it once again. He had used the phrase "bigger and better things," a phrase he had used once in a conversation with her. The letter had an almost identical header and footer as that from the Wayne Enterprises scare. But, of course, the biggest determining factor for Gwen was that J's real name **_**was**_** the Joker, and had been the Joker all along, and she had been the only one to know it. That, in her mind, confirmed that the note was genuine.**

"**J wrote it… Yes. The Joker wrote it. I'm certain of that. And…although he's played, well, jokes on us twice now, I'm pretty positive that he truly is ending the Why So Serious ARG now. He's basically given us a promise of that, and he hasn't broken his word yet."**

"**So, basically," Ramirez began, her voice ringing through the darkness from where she stood on the front wall. "what you're saying is that he's telling the truth when he says he's moved on to bigger and better things, too?"**

**Gwen looked at her for a moment, and then looked at Gordon and Stephens. "Yes. That's exactly what I'm saying."**

**The rest of the day flew by as nearly three quarters of Major Crime devoted themselves to the new Joker case, the new name for the Why So Serious case files, now expanded to include any future activities the Joker performed. Unfortunately, as the Joker's newest plot was the GPD bomb scare of that morning, no new breakthroughs were made, so Gwen went home unsure of what direction the case was going to take, at least until the Joker acted again.**

**When she made it to her room, she found something unexpected waiting for her in her mailbox: a gilded envelope with her address on it beautiful calligraphy and no return address. Puzzled, she brought it inside with her other mail, flipped on all the lights, and opened it at the kitchen counter.**

**Gwen could have died.**

_**Miss Gwen Fleming, you are cordially invited to a gala at the residence of Mr. Bruce Wayne, Penthouse 1 on the 42nd**__** floor of White Oak Suites, 23-A Franklin Ave., on this Friday, the 3**__**rd**__** of July, at 8:30 p.m. Formal dress. Donations will be given to the Gotham Police Department.**_

**The next morning, Gwen awoke still furious with Bruce Wayne. What was his hidden agenda, anyways? An idea was solidifying in her mind, an idea that perhaps Mr. Wayne was using Gwen to make Rachel jealous of him. Despite the fact that this was the best she could come up with, she still felt ridiculous for even contemplating that idea. For one thing, Wayne had his choice of basically every woman in Gotham, rich or poor. For another, he was basically incapable of feeling any emotion greater than mild affection for any of them, as far as Gwen was concerned. A guy like him probably never really, truly loved somebody in his entire life, and he probably never would. And lastly, why Gwen? What was so good about her, that would cause Wayne to make her the pawn in his little scheme? Infuriating. Simply infuriating.**

**Gwen had about ten minutes of layover before she was due to leave for work, so on a whim she decided to check her e-mail. To her surprise, she had received a message…from humanresourceswhysoserious . com, no less. Unsure of what it would say, she quickly clicked it open.**

**Like in his other messages, the Joker didn't mince words. The message read,**

"_**You deserve a toast, Gwennie. Word on the street is that you've earned the distinguished title of Bruce Wayne's arm candy this Friday evening. You certainly are moving up in the world, aren't you? Since you're going to wile away the night at Wayne's penthouse, I was wondering if you might do me a little favor while you're there. All you have to do is take pictures with all your rich and famous new friends. Just make sure the pictures show the layout of the penthouse in the background. I have a feeling those might come in handy someday. Will you do it, my dear? Reply as soon as you get this message. ~J**_**"**

**The assignment seemed pretty innocent to Gwen, so she tapped out a quick reply before heading in to work.**

"**I don't get why you need them, but I'll do it. ~G"**

**A/N: I hope everyone caught on to my little Dark Knight allusion with this chapter, and I hope you enjoyed this perhaps long-awaited installment! Next chapter, the Joker strikes again and Gwen comes dangerously close to exposing their relationship to everyone in Major Crime! To find out if everything turns out alright, please be patient, read and review, and I'll post again as soon as I can! ~G**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Hi, guys! Isn't it ironic that just as I warned you to expect long periods of time between posts, I seem to have renewed my commitment to this story? I feel pretty silly, but it should be good news for my readers. (By the way, I haven't been hearing much from you lately. Has everyone forgotten me?) Hopefully this streak of determination will continue, as I'm eager to wrap this tale up! Read on! ~G**

**Chapter Thirteen: And I Can't Wait to Play Games**

When Gwen got to work, Gordon was waiting for her at her desk.

"Harvey Dent's here," he told her. "He'd like to have a meeting with the GPD staffers on the Joker case. Since you're his psychoanalyst, Dent's requested that you attend."

"Why?"

"I think, basically, he wants in," Gordon replied, sounding almost a little irritated at the prospects. Casually, Gwen wondered why that irked him so much.

Gordon led Gwen out of Major Crime and down several unfamiliar whitewashed hallways. At first, Gwen knew where they were, but by the time they reached their destination she was hopelessly lost. The door Gordon opened led to a small conference room, with a long wooden table crowded with chairs. Already seated were Dent, Ramirez, Stephens and several detectives and officers Gwen didn't know. Gordon showed Gwen to her seat, then took his own at the end of the table, opposite Dent.

"Alright, everyone," he began. "I think most of you realize why I'm here: the Joker case. I'm representing the city of Gotham when I say that I need to know what this guy's up to. What are his motivations? What does he mean to accomplish in the end?"

"As far as we can tell, his actions are spontaneous," Gordon reported.

"No criminal is spontaneous, Gordon. He's got to have a plan of some kind. Sending bombs to Wayne Enterprises, the GPD…we can't have a repeat of the water supply incident from last year. We have no choice but to take him out before he sets the wheels in motion."

"If you don't mind me asking, Mr. Dent, what inspired you to come down here today, specifically?" Ramirez asked. "Did something happen that we don't know about?"

"Certainly you all heard that Fernando Machiavelli was murdered last night." Gwen hadn't actually heard that, and she had no idea what the significance of that was, either.

"A major mobster, we know," Stephens said smoothly. "It was a stabbing. The coroner's report isn't in yet."

"Yes, it was a stabbing, but did anybody think to ask how this man was stabbed to death?" Silence filled the room. Apparently, Gwen thought wryly, no one had. She could tell Dent thought he was onto something big. He took a deep breath, then continued.

"He was killed by two knife wounds to his face." Gwen tried not to gasp. She already knew what Dent would say next. "Together, they made the shape of a smile."

"That had to be the Joker," Gwen exclaimed. All eyes in the room turned to her. She was horrified to realize that since no one knew what the Joker looked like, this could end badly, and fast. If anyone put two and two together and realized she knew the Joker personally…

Suddenly, Gwen figured out what to say. In retrospect, she would bet money on the fact that the Joker probably included this in his last note for her benefit. She breathed a mental sigh of relief.

"Remember? In the note from the package he sent us, the last thing he wrote in the message was the word 'smile.'" Gwen explained. "It must have been an allusion to his next action--the murder of that man…"

"Machiavelli," Gordon nodded. "It all makes sense now."

"It's too late for him, but it might not be for the Joker's next victim," Dent said. "From now on, every report that goes through Major Crime should be analyzed for any traits resembling those of Joker crimes. If any are found, they should be redirected to Miss Fleming here, who can make an analysis and confirm or deny his involvement."

"Last time I checked, Mr. Dent, you didn't have authorization to order GPD around," one of the senior officers put in.

"I don't," Dent responded smoothly. "but I think it's important that all of us work together on this." The line was obviously rehearsed, but no one could say a bad word about it. After a couple minutes more of discussion, the meeting adjourned and the GPD staffers started heading back to their jobs in Major Crime. Dent caught Gwen's arm on the way out the door.

"It _is_ Miss Fleming, isn't it?" Gwen nodded. "We met at the trial, then. I guess Rachel was right about you. She said you'd be able to help us out on this case, and you didn't disappoint."

"Glad I could help," Gwen smiled cordially. "If you need anything else, I'd be happy to assist you."

"That's good to hear," Dent replied with a short sigh. "It seems like most people down here would rather I didn't get involved in any of their cases."

"I noticed that. Why?"

"Well, a couple of years ago I investigated several of the Major Crime officers when I worked in Internal Affairs. Not all of them were as trustworthy as the GPD would like to think, and yet they continue to be employed here. I think mostly they resent me for that."

"Oh," Gwen said. "Well, like I said, I don't mind helping you guys out any more than I mind working on the case here with the police."

"Thanks, Miss Fleming," Dent smiled. "I'll make sure and remember that."

Although Gwen was happy that she'd been so helpful during the meeting that morning, the entire day she was plagued with one question: Why did the Joker kill Machiavelli? She knew from experience that he did everything for a reason, even if it was only obvious to him at the time. As soon as she walked in her door, she dashed over to her laptop and sent him a quick e-mail.

It read,_ "Why did you kill him? I don't get it. ~G"_

The Joker replied almost instantaneously.

"_It's simple, really. The Gotham mob wants to ignore the Batman. They think if they pretend he's not there, they can make him go away. But he is a threat to them, and once they realize that they're going to have to turn to someone to take him out. But who? …That's not hard to figure out, either, my dear. If I can make it past mob security, into the private penthouse of one of Gotham's finest mob bosses, and manage to take him out without anyone's notice…their choice should be simple. And I can't wait to play games with the Batman. ~J_"

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'm relatively knew at writing dialogue for Harvey Dent, so I hope that met everyone's standards, and I also hope my Joker dialogue continues to be up to snuff. Next chapter, find out what happens when the Joker's relationship with Gwen is revealed to Reeva, Deb and Tracy! ~G**


	14. Chapters 14 through 21

**A/N: Well, guys, I'm tired of apologizing for such long gaps between updates, and I know I'm one of the most inconsistent authors on the site in terms of updates, so I've done it: I'm posting the entire rest of the story in one big hunk. This very long conclusion covers what was originally intended to be Chapters 14-21, the final chapter. I dearly hope that you will read, review and enjoy it, because it's been a "labor of love," as they say. (Whoever "they" are.) So what are you waiting for? Jump in! ~G**

**Chapter Fourteen: To Bring Him to Justice**

The night before Bruce Wayne's GPD benefit party was Gwen and her friend's monthly "unity night." Usually the four would meet up at one of their apartments and have dinner together. Everyone was responsible for bringing their own portion of the meal, and this time, Gwen was in charge of the appetizers. Once she made it home from work, she cranked up the radio and assembled a random assortment of mini hotdogs and cheese cubes on a tray. When she thought she had enough, she loaded it all into a plastic container, grabbed her purse, and headed for Reeva's apartment.

Reeva had a first floor apartment about twenty minutes from Gwen's. Unlike her studio apartment, Reeva's was separated into a living room, eat-in kitchen, bedroom and bathroom. When she knocked, she heard Reeva yell,

"It's open! I'm in the kitchen!"

"Hello hello!" Gwen shouted as she opened the door. "Where do you want me to dump this stuff?"

"Just put it on the table. Sorry I can't come say hi, by the way. I'm in a fight with the oven."

"What?" Gwen giggled as she deposited the appetizers on the small dining room table in Reeva's kitchen. Her friend stood across the room glaring at her oven with contempt. "What'd that thing ever do to you?"

"I can't get the timer to set above ten minutes!" Reeva shouted in exasperation. She was always the kind of person who let you know exactly how she was feeling, kind of like Deb. Tracy and Gwen were a little more conservative in that field. "So I'm just going to have to sit there and _watch_ the darn thing to make sure the cupcakes don't explode."

"They're not going to explode, Reeve," Gwen smiled, shaking her head at her friend. "Why don't you let me take a look at that?"

While Gwen tampered with the oven timer, Deb and Tracy showed up. The two were roommates and had caught a taxi over to Reeva's apartment.

"Oh, my gosh!" Reeva yelled as they came in the door.

"What is it?" Gwen asked, but as soon as Tracy came into the kitchen she had no more reason to ask. "Good night, Tracy, your hair!"

Last time Gwen saw her, her shy friend had had pale blonde hair with pink highlights. Now, Tracy was sporting pale blonde hair with pink and electric blue streaks, applied to the point at which the natural blonde locks almost looked like highlights as well. If Gwen hadn't known her, she would have had no idea what her natural hair color was.

"Do you like it?" she asked in her quiet voice. Gwen could never quite figure Tracy out. Her personality and her fashion choices had never matched.

"How can you not?" Deb asked in a loud voice as she stepped into the room, carrying a pack of Mountain Dew. "I think she looks great."

"So do I," Gwen grinned, turning back to the oven. "But you were right, Reeva. This thing must hate pretty college girls like us." The four laughed, and Gwen felt some of the tension she'd been carrying around since starting on the Why So Serious case lift.

Gwen's mini meal went over great, and then Tracy served up her main course for the evening: fresh made salad with vegetables from the farmer's market. After that, Reeva brought out the chocolate cupcakes she had been baking, which they had, in fact, had to watch the entire time to make sure that they didn't burn. Deb had brought enough Mountain Dew for everyone. The parts of the meal everyone brought didn't always necessarily "go together," but they always made for an interesting dinner.

After they'd cleaned up, the four sat around and talked about what had been going on with them lately. Reeva said comic book business boomed during J's ARG, as people flocked to the store where the game had begun and bought a couple of comic books as souvenirs. Since J's termination of the ARG had gone public, however, the store's profits had dropped back to where they were beforehand. She was attending night school in the hopes of becoming a teacher, but she had no classes on Thursday, so that's when the group usually met up. Deb was going to college at Gotham University, same as Gwen, in the hopes of designing motorcycles when she graduated. She had become estranged from her wealthy family after moving to Gotham to attend college, but they nonetheless sent her enough money to get by, so she didn't have a part-time job. She reported, however, that she'd met a "real sweetheart" named Rich at the Harley-Davidson Owners of Gotham meetings. Tracy was taking classes at a community college for a degree in architecture. She worked part-time as a bank teller in her spare time, but, frankly, Gwen, Deb and Reeva didn't understand how she could make it through a day at the bank with a timid personality like hers.

"It is _so_ sad that J terminated the ARG," Deb said with a sigh.

"Gwen's probably happy about it," Reeva replied with a roll of her eyes. "As far as she was concerned, J was a psycho killer. She was only playing the ARG to 'bring him to justice' or something."

"Speaking of, I bet you're finding out a lot about him at your new job, aren't you?" Tracy put in. "How's work?"

"Oh, it's…good."

"Well, on the upside, you're having an exciting time over there. Nobody's ever threatened to blow up the Harley-Davidson Owners of Gotham before."

"Oh, hey, yeah, the Joker did that, didn't he? Maybe G knew what she was talking about."

"The Joker? Oh, right, I forgot that they called him that now."

"You know, they're saying he killed Machiavelli, too, that mobster that got his faced carved the other night."

"Gwen's his psychoanalyst. What do you think of him, G?"

"Well, I mean, he definitely has a lot of problems," Gwen said. "But…I don't know…he's just not really all that bad."

"Not that bad? He tried to blow up Wayne Enterprises and the GPD!"

"Maybe he's a fall guy."

"He's not a fall guy, Trace! Come on!"

"Yeah, but maybe what she means is that he's a different guy than the J from the ARG."

"Don't you think the police would have thought of that by now? He's got to be the same dude."

"Hey, guys?" Gwen, who had remained silent during this exchange, suddenly said. The three turned to look at her in confusion. She looked back at them, silent. She wasn't sure what the Joker would think, but she'd already made her choice. She couldn't keep the secret anymore, not from her best friends.

"….Yeah?" Reeva asked. "What is it, G?"

"Well…the reason that I said that…about him not being that bad is…well, I've actually met him."

There was a beat of silence. Then, Deb and Reeva simultaneously exclaimed, "WHAT?!"

**Chapter Fifteen: Question and Answer**

"When?" Reeva demanded.

"The night of the warehouse explosion and the restaurant shooting. I was actually there…for both of those things."

"Excuse me?" Deb shouted. "Why didn't you tell us to begin with?"

"You could have been killed!" added Reeva.

"I didn't want you to worry about me! You guys would have freaked out!" Gwen replied defensively.

"Have you seen him since then?"

"Well…yeah."

"When? For what?"

"We've had dinner…twice since the warehouse explosion. And, actually, he was contacting me throughout most of the ARG."

"Get out! Why didn't you say anything, bonehead?"

"Stop, stop, stop!" Tracy cried. Neither Gwen, Reeva or Deb had ever heard her say anything that loud, and the sound stunned them into silence. "Would you guys stop getting mad at her? For gosh sakes, she wasn't trying to be secretive! She obviously kept it from us for a reason! Now, Gwen…" she trailed off, turning to her friend. "…Why didn't you tell us?"

Gwen was glad for her friend's intervention, but she had no idea how to answer that. Even she wasn't quite sure that she knew. However, in the end, her silence spoke volumes.

Reeva clapped a hand over her mouth. "No way."

"Oh, my gosh, G. Are you serious? Do you really…?"

Gwen remained silent, but there, at the corners of her mouth, were the faintest traces of a smile.

At this, Reeva and Deb launched into a serious question and answer session, forcing Gwen to tell them all about her relationship with the Joker. A bit reluctantly, she told them about his contact with her throughout the ARG, their meeting at Weston's and the warehouse explosion, and the dinners they've had since then. After they'd squeezed the last details out of her, there was silence in the apartment for a couple of minutes.

"…Wow," Deb said, finally. "That's a mindblower, G."

"Yeah," Reeva added. "I mean, I can see that you're really happy with this guy and all, but…I don't know…you'd just better be careful."

"And make sure you always keep your head screwed on straight when you're around him," Deb put in. "We don't know what he's capable of, and neither do you."

By the time Gwen's friends were finished grilling her, it was getting pretty late, and Reeva pointed out that she had to get to work early the next day. On that note, the party broke up, and after bidding goodbye to Reeva, Gwen set off down the hallway with Deb and Tracy. As they walked, Gwen realized that Tracy had been awfully silent since taking up Gwen's defense before her feelings for the Joker became apparent. As they neared the doorway, Gwen pulled her over and asked,

"Are you alright, Trace?"

Tracy sighed. "Yeah…I'm fine. It's just…I'm a little worried about you, is all. This Joker guy…I can tell you really like him. It's written plain on your face. I thought I'd picked up on something different about you lately. But, no matter how much you like him, please be careful. You barely know him, and you've seen the things he's done so far. Until you know him better, you can't put all your trust in him."

Before Gwen could say anything in response, Tracy offered her one last smile and dashed after Deb. Gwen stood by the doorway for a while after her friend left, pondering what she had said. She knew Tracy, like Deb and Reeva, was only looking out for her best interest, but she really felt that the Joker, at least to some degree, had some sort of affection for her. He at least acted like it. And, on the other hand, it might be too late for Gwen to not trust the Joker, she thought, for she already believed that he would never lie to her.

**Chapter Sixteen: Invitation, Please**

For Gwen, the next day flew by as she analyzed case file after case file that was brought to her, checking for signs of the Joker's involvement. After the e-mail response the Joker had sent her the day of Machiavelli's murder, she wasn't expecting any other crimes to surface until his next big plot, but she had been ordered to check every file that anyone in Major Crime was suspicious of as possibly being Joker-linked. What he had told her made the murder make a lot more sense from her perspective, but she regretted being unable to share her findings with anyone else. At times like this, knowing the Joker and not being able to share the information he gave her with her coworkers was a real hindrance.

Eight hours and no major breakthroughs later, Gwen went home feeling only like having a relaxing dinner and watching television until she went to sleep. Unfortunately, she reminded herself with a groan as she put her car in gear, tonight was the GPD benefit at Bruce Wayne's penthouse. When she got home, she surfed the web for a while, then heated herself a microwave dinner and ate it while watching the six o'clock news. After that, she started getting ready for the benefit.

Gwen's best dress was the black one she'd worn when she first met the Joker, but after that, wearing it to Bruce Wayne's penthouse party just didn't seem quite right. Instead, she selected a light blue, almost silver ensemble with spaghetti straps, that fell to just above the knee. She spent the next twenty minutes curling her hair, and then strapped on the white pair of pumps she planned to wear for the evening. By the time she'd finished up with her hair--an activity which annoyed her very much, but that she felt was essential for special occasions--it was about time to get going, so she quickly stuffed the invitation, her wallet, her keys, her cell and her digital camera into a small white purse shaped like a rose, and headed out the door.

Gwen pulled up to the White Oak Suites building at around eight fifteen. After checking the invitation one more time, she walked into the building, making a beeline for the elevator bank. The lavishness of the lobby surprised her, but she knew that she could expect nothing less from a building that housed the likes of Bruce Wayne. In fact, she thought sarcastically as she pushed the button for the forty-second floor, he probably owned the place, just like he owned a third of the rest of Gotham. Penthouse 1 on the forty-second floor, it turned out, was just down the hall from the elevator. Gwen was extremely intimidated at the thought of being in a room full of Gotham's elite with no lifeline but, as she had on her first day at the GPD, she bravely swallowed her fear and rang the bell.

A somewhat elderly butler answered almost at once.

"Invitation, please," he said with a smile. Gwen complied at once, placing the slightly crumpled invitation in his hand. His eyes scanned it for a moment before he looked back up at her. "Miss Fleming, welcome."

The butler beckoned her inside to an elegant entryway. "My name is Alfred, and I am employed by Master Wayne."

"Ah," Gwen replied, already feeling out of her league. Master Wayne? Who called their boss 'Master' anything these days? "I'm Gwen Fleming. The GPD is currently employing me as psychoanalyst on the Joker case."

Alfred's face grew grave. "That man? The papers say that he is a monster. You'd best be careful on a case like that, Miss Fleming."

"Thank you, sir." Gwen was starting to feel a little more relaxed, at least in the presence of this Alfred guy. He didn't seem nearly as bad as she had been expecting. "I am taking every precaution."

"As you should." Just then, the sound of ringing footsteps filled the room. Alfred straightened up at once. "Master Wayne, Miss Fleming has arrived," he informed Wayne, who at that moment appeared from around the corner in a black tuxedo.

"Miss Fleming," Wayne smiled. "I'm glad you could make it."

"Thank you for inviting me," Gwen responded, hoping that that was a proper thing to say.

"You are very welcome. Come, let me take you in to the party." With that, Wayne linked arms with Gwen and began to lead her through the penthouse. Frankly, Gwen felt that this show of, well, whatever this was supposed to be was a bit uncalled for. Bruce Wayne barely even knew her, and yet he was presumptive enough to link arms with her like they were already an item. Gwen tried not to roll her eyes.

When Wayne brought Gwen into the hall in which the gala was being held, all eyes turned to her. She all but cringed under the intense scrutiny. Without missing a beat, Wayne led Gwen over to Harvey Dent and Rachel, who were talking quietly by one of the large windows that lined the back and side walls.

**Chapter Seventeen: Glad You Could Make It**

"Harvey, Rachel, glad you could make it," he said to them. "You both met Gwen Fleming at the trial, didn't you?"

"Yes, we did," Dent replied with a smile. "Good to see you again, Miss Fleming."

"A pleasure," Gwen managed to choke out. Dent turned to Rachel.

"Ray, would you like more wine?"

"Why not?" Rachel said with a smile. With another smile at Bruce and Gwen, the two melted into the crowd in the direction of the punch bowl.

The second Harvey and Rachel were out of sight, Bruce let go of Gwen and promptly headed in the opposite direction, leaving Gwen alone by the windows. She rolled her eyes. So this _was _a ploy to get under Rachel's skin. She was pretty much sure of that now. The fact that Bruce had dropped her like an old doll the minute Rachel Dawes was out of sight only confirmed that in her mind. If Rachel wasn't buying into it, then Gwen had basically been invited to the party for no reason. With a sigh, Gwen leaned against the window. This was going to be one lonely evening. And how was she supposed to get those pictures taken if she had no friends to take them with?

"Miss Fleming!" a familiar voice suddenly shouted. Gwen couldn't have felt more relieved to see Lieutenant Gordon appear out of the crowd. "I hadn't expected to see you here. No one told me you'd been invited."

Gwen smiled. "Well, here I am!"

"Since you're here," Gordon continued. "There are some people I'd like you to meet. Your work on the Joker case hasn't been going unnoticed, I can tell you that much."

"Oh?" Gwen asked, a little pleased, a little curious as to just whom Gordon was about to introduce her to. Sounded like it would be someone important. She weaved her way through the crowd after him, after a minute or two encountering two men deep in conversation: one, a tall, imposing African American, the other, a dignified Hispanic.

"Mayor Garcia? Commissioner Loeb?" Gordon put in during a pause in their conversation. Inwardly, Gwen was panicking. Mayor? Commissioner? Good night!

The pair turned to look at Gordon. "This is the woman I was telling you about. The psychoanalyst on the Joker case." Both the mayor and the commissioner shook her hand courteously.

"Lieutenant Gordon tells me that you've made more breakthroughs on the path to catching this terrorist than anyone else in Major Crime," Loeb said.

"I'm simply doing my job, sir," Gwen replied.

"It sounds to me as though you're going above and beyond your job, Miss Fleming," the mayor told her. "You seem to have a very bright future."

"Thank you, sir. I surely hope so."

The four chatted for several more minutes before the musicians struck up a lovely tune and the dancing began. As the first strains of the strings filled the hall, Bruce Wayne materialized at Gwen's side and requested a dance. The two whirled around the hall, a bit awkwardly at first, for about half the song, at which point Harvey and Rachel retired from the dance floor. Just like before, the moment Miss Dawes was away from the scene Wayne began dancing with several attractive young women, one after the other. With a sigh, Gwen set her course in the direction of Dent and Rachel. She managed to find them in the corner of the hall, where two of the window walls intersected, watching the dancing.

"Hello, Miss Dawes. Hi, Mr. Dent," Gwen said with a smile.

"Oh, good evening, Miss Fleming," Dent replied. "This is quite a party, isn't it?"

"Quite," Gwen agreed.

"So how's work at the GPD?" Rachel wanted to know.

"Oh, so-so."

"I heard about the bomb scare the other day. Was anyone hurt?"

"No, everything was fine in the end. The package was a phony. All that was in it was a note."

"That's a relief," Rachel sighed. The small talk continued for a time longer, until suddenly an idea popped into Gwen's mind. She had figured out right away that this wasn't exactly an event full of flashing cameras, like she had expected. However, she needed to get those pictures for the Joker. She wasn't sure she could find more than a couple of people who'd be willing to take a picture with her. But if she could manage to take just one, but at a spot where most of the room could be seen, say, a corner where two walls of clear glass intersected…

**Chapter Eighteen: Tell Me What You Know**

"Hey, guys, would you mind taking a picture with me real quick?" Gwen asked, reaching into her purse as she spoke and pulling out her digital camera.

Dent laughed as she turned it on. "I don't see why not."

Once she had all the settings correct, Gwen said, "Okay. Smile everybody." As she held the camera out in front of her, she purposely tilted it high. It would probably still capture the three of their faces, but it would also show the layout of Wayne's penthouse from two different angles. The camera made a little chirping noise as it took the picture, since Gwen had turned off the flash.

"Thanks so much!" Gwen grinned as she stuck the camera back in her purse. She had failed to notice that the music had stopped while they were snapping the picture, so she nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard Bruce Wayne say, from right behind her,

"Miss Fleming! You wandered off during the dancing, and I couldn't find you."

Once she had recovered enough of her dignity to reply, she answered, "Did I? I apologize. I was speaking with Lieutenant Gordon, and I guess I lost track of time." What a liar, she thought to herself.

"Would you mind if I stole you away for a moment to speak with you privately?" Wayne asked, offering Rachel a conciliatory glance. Like he had in the past, he said absolutely nothing to Dent.

"Oh, no problem," Gwen smiled with fake congeniality. "Harvey," she added, making sure to stress his name for Bruce's benefit. Maybe the man was blind. "Rachel, I'll be back in a minute."

"See you then," Rachel replied. Though she was very polite in her response to Gwen, she seemed to be staring daggers at Bruce. If he noticed, though, which he probably did, Wayne did nothing in response, instead leading Gwen out to the balcony on the back wall of the penthouse, making sure to shut the door behind them.

Once they were alone, Gwen made sure to get in the first word. Time to be confrontational.

"Mr. Wayne, am I here just so you can catch the attention of Rachel Dawes?"

"Whatever made you think that?" Wayne asked her calmly. That wasn't an answer, Gwen thought to herself sardonically, but before she could speak again, Wayne continued. "Now, Gwen--if I may call you that--I was wondering if you could do something for me."

"Well, what is it?"

Wayne took a deep breath. "I need you to tell me what you know of the Joker."

"…Why do you need to know about him?" Gwen asked, her eyes narrowed. What was this guy fishing for?

"Just believe me when I say that it's very important that you answer my questions," Wayne replied, his eyes serious.

"How am I supposed to take you on good faith, Mr. Wayne? I barely know you."

"Please," Wayne said, his eyes pleading. Gwen wasn't sure whether he was acting or not, but either way his show of emotion surprised her. "It is imperative that I learn what I can of this man."

"What do you need to know?"

"Thank you so much, for doing this," Wayne said to her. "My first question is, what is the Joker's usual method?"

"He has no method. His actions are totally spontaneous."

"So there's no set way to predict his actions?"

"If there were, we would have caught him by now."

"How does he accomplish his crimes?"

"It depends on the crime. With the threat at your company, he had an insider get Mr. Fox's e-mail address for him."

"Is it safe to say he has lots of these 'insiders' spread throughout Gotham?"

"I don't suspect he has all that many, but I wouldn't be surprised if he were controlling some of the thugs the mob has embedded in Gotham's city government."

"What makes you say that?"

"He killed Fernando Machiavelli, a nearly impossible job. I don't know this, but I suspect it might have been an inside job, at least to some degree."

"That makes sense. So you think he's being employed by the mob?"

"As far as we know, he's not affiliated with them just yet, but the way he's going so far that affiliation is a possibility in the future. I never said the mob _knew _he was using their men."

"What are his eventual goals?"

"I don't know if he has any, except to spread absolute anarchy throughout Gotham."

"Why would anyone work for a man like him?"

"I'm pretty sure he has his methods of convincing them."

"And, if you were to guess, what would you say that those methods are?"

Gwen paused for a moment, to consider how to answer Wayne's query. "He probably manipulates them in some way. He might give them an incentive, for example, or he might play up a psychological condition they already suffer from. And as for the rest…he probably twists their mind into believing…" Gwen trailed off.

"Yes?" Wayne inquired.

But Gwen couldn't answer.

**Chapter Nineteen: Please**

"Into believing what?" Wayne asked.

She felt as though, suddenly, a door had been opened inside of her, and everything had been revealed.

"Gwen?"

Her head slumped as she pushed her bangs back out of her eyes. When she looked back up at Wayne, he was stunned to see her eyes filled with sorrow.

"Is everything alright?"

"Oh, uh…yeah," she managed to say, but her voice seemed as if it were speaking from somewhere far away. "Listen, Mr. Wayne, thank you so much for inviting me to his party, but…I really need to get home. There's something really important I just remembered. So, I guess I'll see you around, alright? Thanks again."

Wayne tried to speak again, but before he could get a word in she had pushed past him, stepped through the doors back to the party and was making a beeline for the door. Alfred started to ask her if she would like a glass of wine as she exited the party room, but Gwen ignored him. She rushed out of the penthouse as fast as she could, and within five minutes was back in her car. Before she pulled out, she quickly took out her cell phone, turned it on, and punched in a number she'd never dialed before, but had made sure to memorize: the Joker's private cell phone number.

He picked up on the first ring.

"Yeah?" he asked, more of a statement than a question.

"Hey, J. It's me."

"Gwennie, dear, I wasn't expecting a call from you tonight."

"I know this line is only for emergencies, but could you please meet me at my apartment? It's important."

"I'll be there," he told her, and the line clicked dead.

The Joker arrived in Gwen's apartment just minutes after she got there herself. When he entered the room, Gwen was seated on the sofa, calmly waiting for him. The lights were all off, but the streetlights from the street let in an eerie kind of half-light.

"Here I am, Gwennie," he said in a singsong voice. "By the way, did you get those pictures I asked you for?"

"J, please," Gwen replied, her voice firm. "Would you just cut the crap?"

Instantly, the playful grin vanished from the Joker's face. "What are you talking about, beautiful?"

"And you don't have to call me that anymore, either. I know what's going on." As she said it, Gwen rose to her feet. Her eyes were unreadable, but her voice was calm, controlled.

"And what exactly would that be? Let me in on the secret."

"I know what you've been doing, J."

"What?"

"You…" Gwen paused for a moment, trying to work up the resolve to get her thoughts into the open. "You've been _twisting my mind_!"

"I've been doing nothing of the kind, my dear. Now why don't you just sit back down and you can tell me just who it was who put that idea into your mind."

"No, J," Gwen replied, shaking her head. "I'm not going to do that. I can't trust you anymore."

"Gwennie, please."

"No!" Gwen suddenly cried, her voice breaking. "Don't try to correct me!"

"You have to understand--"

"You've been controlling me, haven't you? I know the truth now."

"You're not listening to me. I haven't."

"Don't lie to me! I _know_ you have!"

"What made you decide that, Gwennie?"

"Nothing did! I just realized it on my own! I should have picked up on it weeks ago. Ever since that day at the ARG, you've been dragging me down…haven't you?"

The Joker didn't respond.

"_Haven't you?!_"

The Joker took a deep breath. "No. No, I haven't. I have not been dragging you down. Even if I'd been trying to, you wouldn't have taken the fall. You're one of the most incorruptible people I've ever met."

"No one's incorruptible, J," Gwen countered. As she said it, she collapsed back on to the couch and held her head in her hands. "And now I don't know whether or not to believe you."

"Have I ever lied to you?" the Joker asked quietly after a couple of minutes. "Have I?"

If Gwen heard the Joker's query, she chose to ignore it. She rose to her feet again silently and walked over to the Joker. They stood there in silence for a time, looking at one another. Finally, Gwen said,

"I think…I think that I'm going to stay away from you for a while."

"Gwen…"

"I need to clear my thoughts, figure out who's telling the truth."

The Joker reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a switchblade, never taking his eyes off of Gwen.

"So, if you could do me a favor and leave, I need some time alone."

"See this?" the Joker asked, indicating the knife. "This…is my favorite knife. I've had it ever since day one--"

"Please. Just go."

"--and it's always been there for me. It was the first knife I ever had--"

"J, I've got to think about this."

"--and it's my most important possession. I haven't let it out of my sight for a very, very long time. And--"

"Would you just leave?"

"--And I'd like you to take it."

"You're not listening to me."

"I'd like you to hang on to this blade until we see each other again, alright?"

"What are you talking about? Please, just get out of my apartment."

"Please…" Gently, the Joker took Gwen's hand in his and placed the switchblade in it. He looked at her for a moment, and for the first time Gwen saw his true emotions in his eyes. Loss. Desperation. Agony.

Without warning, the Joker embraced Gwen and pressed her lips to his. It was a deeper kiss than the one they had shared after the warehouse explosion, the night that they met. It was more searching, more passionate.

But it only lasted for a second. Then, the Joker pulled away from Gwen, turned on his heel, and left the apartment without saying another word. Gwen watched the door click shut with a mixture of lingering fury and remorse. Perhaps she had gotten too angry. She wasn't even sure if her accusations had been true or not. She had been sure at the party, when she was speaking with Wayne on the balcony, but now that she'd confronted the Joker, her mind grew more doubtful as every second passed.

Sadly, Gwen returned to the couch and took her seat, looking at the switchblade the Joker had given her closely for the first time in the half-light. It wasn't roughed up at all like she might have expected. It looked as if it had only been lightly used. The Joker must have really cared about this blade, she thought as she turned it slowly over. So why had he given it to her, if he cared for it so much? Perhaps, Gwen thought, he was trying to show her that he cared for her even more than he had ever cared for this blade, even if at one time he would have called that care a twisted kind of love.

"In a way, I almost feel like he just proposed to me," Gwen said to herself softly. Her eyes shone with sorrow. "…So why do I feel so empty?"

**Chapter Twenty: How Would You Feel**

Gwen didn't hear the door open or any other sound, but when she next looked up, a long time later, the Batman was standing by her armchair, regarding her silently. He stood exactly where the Joker had stood half an hour before.

"Why are you trespassing on my property, Batman?" she asked the man coolly. As she said it, she slid the Joker's knife behind her back. It was obvious that the Batman hadn't seen it yet, for had he, he would have seized it from her by now. It might come in handy, she thought to herself.

"Where is he?" Batman asked her in his deep, gravelly voice.

"Where is who?"

"You know who. The Joker. Where is he?"

Gwen shook her head. "I don't know."

"Yes, you do. Where is he?"

"What makes you think I know where he is?" Gwen wanted to know.

"Don't play games with me, Fleming. I already know that the two of you know each other…_very well_, some of my sources tell me. Where is he?"

"We might used to have known each other very well, but we don't now," Gwen said quietly. Because I went and screwed everything up, she added to herself. "And I don't know where he is."

"Tell me where he is!" Batman shouted, advancing towards her. In response, Gwen rose to her feet, keeping the switchblade tucked behind her back.

"I really don't know!" she shouted. "I really don't!"

"Yes, you do. How would you like Lieutenant Gordon and the rest down at Major Crime to learn about the two of you and your…relationship?"

"Are you threatening me, Batman?" Gwen asked angrily. She wasn't about to let the Batman blackmail her into revealing anything about the Joker. She might have destroyed everything they'd ever had, she thought to herself, but that didn't mean it was all over for her. Her mind flashed back to something the Joker had said earlier that evening--that she was incorruptible. Maybe it was true, Gwen thought with a cynical smile. Because despite the accusations she'd made, she knew in her heart that she still loved him, and she wasn't about to turn him in.

"This is your final chance, Gwen. Tell me where he is."

Gwen stepped away from the couch, took a couple of steps backwards towards her bed, her desk and the wall of windows. The Batman followed her, menacingly boxing her in.

"I don't have to tell you anything," she said firmly, and without another thought pulled out the switchblade and pointed it at Batman.

Before she'd even had a chance to think what she might possibly _do_ with the knife, Batman tackled her and forced her against the pane of glass. His attempt to pin her failed as the glass shattered. The blade fell away to the street below, and Gwen after it. She tumbled towards the ground silently, resigned to her fate, when suddenly she felt a tautness around her midsection. Batman had caught her on his grappling gun, she realized. He'd snagged her around the second floor level, and it took him a while to hoist her back up to the fourth floor window.

"So you're trying to kill me?" Gwen shouted, the wind whipping her hair and skirt around her and tearing away her voice.

"Tell me where he is."

"I don't _know_ where he is," she replied. The rope released slightly, dropping her a couple of feet. Unfazed, Gwen looked back up at the bat. "Shouldn't you be out looking for him rather than interrogating me to no end? I already told you. I don't know."

"You know him personally. You must know where he lives."

"But I don't. He never once told me."

"How did he find you?"

"He came to me!"

"Do you love him?" Gwen ignored the question.

"Batman, I have a question for you…do _you_ love somebody?"

The Batman didn't answer.

"In that case, I have a question for you. How exactly would you feel if the person you loved…died?"

A terrible snapping sound filled the air. And the last thing Batman saw of Gwen was the satisfied smile on her face as she plunged into the darkness.

**Chapter Twenty-One: Forever**

The Joker received a call on his private cell at three o'clock that morning. He usually caught a couple of hours of sleep every night, but this evening in particular was different, and he was awake. He answered on the first ring, hoping beyond hope that it was one person in particular. He listened for a minute or two to the person on the other end of the phone, not the person he was hoping to hear from at all. Then, he shut the phone and began to laugh. It was quiet at first, but steadily grew louder, echoing off the walls of his dwelling, ringing through the building, the most mad, hysterical laughter that any drug dealer or bum who heard it that night had ever heard in their life. It went on without end for a good fifteen minutes before suddenly cutting off. It did not resume. And those bums and drug dealers thought to themselves that those peals of laughter they'd just heard had sounded an awful lot like sobs.

--

It was a cloudy day that held the constant threat of rain, a threat that if brought to fruition would personify the feelings of all the people that were packed into the funeral home that day. Before the service began, those who were there simply milled around and talked. Gwen's parents sat silently off to the side of the casket, in the area reserved for the family of the deceased. Reeva, Deb and Tracy stood against the side wall. Reeva and Deb were both crying silently, while Tracy's arm was around both of them. Lieutenant Gordon, Ramirez, Stephens and Wuertz filed in with many of the other Major Crime officers to pay their respects before taking their places.

Gwen lay, pristine and peaceful, in the casket in the front center of the hall. She was wearing a formal black dress and her hair was curled in lovely ringlets around her ears. In her hands was a massive bouquet of flowers, while even more greenery surrounded the coffin. Bruce Wayne arrived just before the service began, spotting Harvey Dent and Rachel seated about midway down the aisle.

As everyone paid their respects at the end of the funeral, Wayne watched the crowd carefully, scanning the crowd for anyone with those signature scars. He saw no one; the results frustrated him. So the Joker couldn't even show up at his own girlfriend's funeral? As he offered his condolences to Mr. and Mrs. Fleming, he found himself plagued by the same question that had bothered him night and day since the incident occurred: how would he feel if the person he loved died? With a glance at Rachel, speaking quietly with Harvey in the back of the room, he hoped that he would never have to answer that.

Guilt for Gwen's death still overwhelmed him. Only Mr. Fox knew the truth of her passing; he had retaliated by redesigning Batman's grappling gun to be much more sturdy and safe. Ironically, the media and GPD alike had attributed her death to the Joker, an attempt to slow down the GPD's efforts to catch him. Wayne knew that the Joker had probably learned the truth by now, and that it would probably only strengthen any resolve he may have had to dispatch the Batman. But he had gone strangely silent since Gwen's killing, and only a select few knew why.

He was mourning.

Wayne walked over to Gwen's friends. The three looked up at him in surprise, recognition dawning in their eyes.

"I'm so sorry," he told them sincerely.

"…Thank you, Mr. Wayne," Deb finally answered. They looked as if they couldn't have been more shocked.

The coffin was being closed as Mr. Wayne left the funeral home. On a whim, he turned around and gave it, and its occupant, one last look. Suddenly, he saw what he had been missing. As the coffin clicked shut, he understood how the Joker had dodged around Gwen's funeral.

He had already been by.

Several Joker cards had been lovingly tucked into the bouquet in Gwen's hands, the bouquet that remained in Gwen's hands as the coffin prepared for its descent into the grave, ready to stay by her side forever.

**A/N: Well, there you have it. When I began this story, I didn't intend for it to end with such tragedy, but as I completed The Heart Behind the Madness, the prequel, I realized that only two possible scenarios would explain Gwen's absence from the plot of The Dark Knight. She would either have to leave, or she would have to die. The decision was a big one to make, but you can see what I chose, and I hope that you can see why. Writing Chapter 21 nearly brought me to tears but it just felt right. It would tie up all the loose ends--the Joker's loss of the compassion he'd had during my tale, his ultimate descent into madness…it even foreshadowed the fate of Rachel Dawes and suggested the Joker's motives for causing her death--perhaps he was trying to make Batman feel his loss. It seemed perfect, and yet, to the Joker, a world without Gwen will never be perfect again. Thank you so much for reading this, and I have deeply enjoyed posting it for you. I just started my own account on this site and my username is theGWENismightierthantheSWORD. If you enjoyed this story please follow me to my new account. I don't have any stories planned at present, but if I do in the future they will be posted here. Again, thank you. Peace! ~G**


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